Rebuild
by Hetshepsit
Summary: Three years after the battle for San Venganza, Blackheart begins to rebuild his life, but it is a life he does not expect. With the aid of a young half-demon, he learns there is much more to life than he once thought. M for swearing and adult themes.
1. Search

Chapter One: Search

All of his life, Blackheart had searched; first for his father's realm, then for that ridiculous contract, and now for a way to survive.  
He should have had the foresight to realize a true demon was harder to kill, and that Legion wouldn't be a true demon: Legion was a thousand human souls in a demon's body. After Legion was killed, Blackheart remained. He was a mere shadow of his former self; a non-corporeal being. A cloud of black smoke.  
For six months, he fed off the vermin that infested the ruins. Slowly, he gained some strength, but soon even the insects began to avoid the area.

With limited strength, and even less sense of direction, he wandered west, ending up in California.  
The heat, firestorms, mudslides and earthquakes reminded him of home, a home he could not return to. He fed off larger game, and the occasional careless human that wandered into his abode. California was doing him well. Too well.  
Though still not as powerful as he was before, Blackheart gained all his arrogance back. He began hunting humans, but killed too many. Soon, the damn mortals would notice.

So, he traveled east, winding up in Minnesota. It was cold, snowy, and the complete opposite of California.  
Luckily, the animals and people here were much more trusting, and the snow banks made it easy to hide a body.

_Two years had passed. Two fucking years. Still weak, still pathetic, still so...human. The snow is melting, and my bodies will be discovered soon. I have to go west. There is a vague memory of a Canadian city, where my kind is welcomed.  
__I have to get there_

He continued to travel east, and finally crossed into Canada through Windsor. He had a slight memory of Windsor, or rather, of someone talking about Windsor.  
He didn't rest, he didn't feed, he just knew he had to get to this town. He had turned into a black cloud again, saving all the energy he could to form a human-esque body when he got to his destination.

It was a large, red-brick house in the suburbs. He went to the door, and a tall, pale, spindly woman answered. She seemed to recognize him.  
"Blackheart?"  
He inhaled weakly, "do you still house demons?"  
Before she could respond, he had collapsed.

The smell of beef woke him up. He was on his side, facing a young woman in jeans and a tank top. She was holding a steaming cup.  
"Mom said you would be awake," The woman said, "I thought you would stay in a coma forever."  
"How long have I been here?"  
"About a week," She passed him the steaming mug, "I have other things to do, take the soup, and drink it. Mother will come talk to you later."  
Cautiously, he took the mug, and scoffed, "Soup?"  
" Yes, soup. It will do you good."  
"It's human food," He attempted to return the cup.  
"Of course it's human food."  
"I don't eat human food."  
"It never stopped me."  
He attempted to give back the mug and speak, but she pressed a finger to her lips and said, "if you don't do what I say, mother will force you to drink the soup. Either way, I don't care."  
There was something familiar about the way she pressed her index finger to her lips.  
She turned and walked out. Angrily accepting this fate, he slowly drank the soup. So, the bitchy woman had been right...it did make him feel better. After a quick nap, he felt well enough to go downstairs, and see what had happened.

He remembered everything, though it had been three years since he had been there, everything was in roughly the same place. Arrogantly, he swaggered into the main room.  
"So, you're up."  
He nodded, "thank you for the food,"  
The older woman shook her head, "At least you ate it. Last time you were here, you protested it terribly."  
He laughed, "Demon's that eat human food, it's not that common, or that normal."  
"I was always different."  
"You ran away and married a mortal."  
"It's called love, Blackheart, one day you'll find it."  
He smirked, "I see your husband still fawns over that pool."  
"We like the water." She quickly changed the conversation, "how long do you expect to stay here?'  
"You're the one who seems to be taking care of me."  
"A few weeks then, that fight nearly killed you."  
He sighed angrily. He had forgotten what this demon could do. Praxis was a unique demon that could read thoughts. She carefully eyed him.  
"You forgot what I could do," Praxis smiled slightly, "understandable. It's been three years. Three long years. I'm quite surprised you remembered this place."  
"I've always been good with directions," there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

From outside, a splash was heard. The dark form of the young woman sped through the water.  
Praxis shook her head, "Mimi needs to stop swimming, and clean the attic suite..."  
"Mimi?"  
"Surely you recognise my daughter?"  
"The sixteen year old brat whose room I was forced to share?"  
Praxis nodded, "Yes, my daughter, Alchemy."  
"She's...grown up."

Alchemy was, already, bored of swimming. Elegantly, she raised herself out of the pool, stepping out gingerly. Water glistened on her pale skin. Her father threw her a towel, which she caught and wrapped her slim figure in. She reclined on a bench, letting the towel provide a barrier from the hot metal. Sighing angrily, Praxis abandoned Blackheart and went out to the deck.  
"Mimi!" She called softly, "come back inside. You have to change the sheets in the attic suite, and reorganize your own room."  
"My room? What for?" She replied, sitting up to face her mother.  
"Until he's well enough, someone will have to watch Blackheart in the night."  
In what seemed like a fury of water, Alchemy was standing on the deck in front of her mother, "Are you crazy? I had to bunk with him last time," She waved a hand in his direction. He was standing at the door.  
"I can survive alone," He piped up, "I'm much better."  
"I've had to sleep with him for a week now!" Alchemy whined, "Mother, we have other suites. He can take the attic! I'll have it cleaned in no time!" She started to walk past her mother. Praxis grabbed her arm and squeezed it tightly. A red mark appeared.  
"Fine," Alchemy said through gritted teeth.  
Praxis threw her daughters arm down, "get dressed, change the sheets in the attic suite, and get your room ready."  
Alchemy, still wet, pushed her way past Blackheart, fuming.

Alchemy tied her hair back in a tight ponytail. A patch of wet appeared squarely in the middle of her shoulders. She quickly changed the sheets on the five beds in the attic suite. She always managed to dress bed's beautifully when she was angry. With a few tears streaming down her face, she smoothed the white linins. Carefully brushing the few stray tears away from her face she returned down to her bedroom.  
The house had four floors; the basement, the main floor, the second floor and the attic. The basement functioned as an entertainment room. There was a huge sound-system, a giant television, various game tables, and a full bar. The main floor was the living area. Here was the kitchen, the living room with a smaller TV, but with video game systems, and the exit to the pool. The second floor had the main bedroom (for Praxis and Alexander), the laundry room, and three other bedrooms. Two of these rooms were outfitted with queen-sized beds, a desk, and a dresser for guests; the third was painted a cheery green colour with two beds, both single sized. This room was Alchemy's room. She rarely had to share it with guests, but in case she had to, she often bunked with teenagers or children. The attic suite was the largest of rooms. It was reserved for families. It had a queen-sized bed, and two sets of bunk beds, along with en-suite bathroom and kitchenette.  
Three years ago, Alchemy's room was wallpapered in Marilyn Manson posters, interspersed with a few _Harry Potter_ references. Now, her room had only a few framed prints hanging on the wall. Now that she was nineteen, and an adult, she could no longer act like the teenager she had once been. She had to become an adult, for one day she would run the hotel, once her mother decided to retire.  
Part of her wanted to become a normal human being. She had completed high school that past June and was not planning on attending post-secondary. She had little need for it. She was, after all, a demon. The handful of friends she had made already were out of town, learning to be doctors, or lawyers, or accountants, she had stayed behind. Part of her resented this fact.  
In fact, a lot of her resented that.  
There was something missing from her life, and no matter how hard she searched, she couldn't figure out what it was.

"I trust you know where you are sleeping," Praxis commented to Blackheart as he retired to bed. The night had long since fell. Alchemy was swimming laps in the illuminated pool, hoping to shake off some of the anger she felt toward her mother.  
"Are you sure," He looked out the window to see Alchemy diving headfirst into the pool, and swimming into the inky blackness, away from the light. "She seems upset."  
"Nonsense, you are still very weak, and someone will have to look after you in case something happens."

Blackheart poked around Alchemy's bookcase. He found a collection of old novels that she had since he was there three years previous, but found a small patch of new books. He selected one—a classic book entitled _1984_—and curled up on his bed. Alchemy must have re-arranged it now that he was conscious. The headboard was now facing the middle of the room, with the end of the bed pressed firmly against the wall. This arrangement was a strange one, but Alchemy had always liked to be enclosed while sleeping. She assumed that everyone was like that, thus a wall by the feet of the person sleeping there would be more comfortable.  
Under the bed were three drawers, indented for the occupant to house their clothes and other belongings. Blackheart had discovered his trench coat folded neatly in the first drawer. Much to his surprise, however, he also discovered some clothing made of a soft, cottony material. He found them pleasing to the touch and oddly comfortable; much more comfortable for contorting in sleep than his everyday clothing would be. He had just finished the first chapter of his book when Alchemy walked in, shutting the door behind her.  
"I hope you don't mind...I don't like sleeping with the door open."  
"No, not at all," He didn't look up.  
She crossed the room nearly silently, in an eerie cat-like way, hopping lightly from the balls of her feet. She reclined on her bed, back exposed, and pulled her black and green duvet to the small of her back.  
"Still obsessed with that computer," he commented.  
She shrugged as best as one could lying on their stomachs, "Does it bother you?"  
"No," He replied, "the glow is something easy to adapt to. Besides, I can always bury my head under the pillow if you get too annoying."  
She grinned slightly.  
Blackheart sat crossed-legged in the middle of his bed. The small task light attached to the wall granted him enough light to read by, and the pleasing click of computer keys made him feel very relaxed. Soon enough, he turned out the light and bid his good-night to Alchemy.  
There was a light in Blackheart's face. Not a bright one, but enough of one to stir him from his light sleep. Alchemy had shifted positions and was shutting down her computer. A pink shirt lay crumpled on the floor, and she sat slightly hunched over. The blue-white glow of the screen reflected off her milky flesh, subtly highlighting the curve of her exposed breasts.  
S_he sleeps without a shirt?_ Blackheart asked himself. _I suppose she doesn't have people sleeping in her room much...  
_She stretched, packed her computer in a bag, and settled herself for sleep. A few minutes passed. Her soft snores confirmed she was asleep.

This was not the same Alchemy from three years ago.


	2. Home

Chapter Two: Home

"I do believe you are in perfect health," Praxis said one afternoon. Blackheart had, to confess, been feeling much better under her care. Though human food took some time getting used to, Praxis—and to a degree Alchemy—aided in the transition from gaining energy from the life force of live things, to consuming the energy from dead things. Praxis had also lavished him in gifts of clothing. Two of the three drawers under his bed were full.

In the three weeks he had been conscious, few demon's came to earth. Most of the ones that stayed in Praxis' hotel were half-breeds like her daughter. The problem with booking, according to Praxis, was the fact that the battle for Mephistopheles' kingdom was over. There was a very solid peace. When Blackheart heard that news, he realized how long three years had been. Peace in his father's kingdom. It didn't seem quite right.

Blackheart was working his way through Alchemy's book collection. He had finished her small set of dystopian novels and had moved on to more light-hearted fiction. Alchemy had reclined on her bed, typing madly.  
"How much longer are you staying?" She asked tentatively.  
"I don't know," Blackheart answered truthfully. In the few weeks he had been awake, him and Alchemy formed a business relationship. They were, no doubt, cordial to each other, but each of them realized there was a wall between them as well.  
"I'd like my room back eventually," She replied, "sharing it with you is not my idea of fun."  
Blackheart shrugged, not caring about her petty problems. He had his own.

First off, he knew he had no way to pay back Praxis for her hospitality. She had been like a mother to him. In fact, she was much better than his own mother. She had bought him clothes, taken care of him, fed him, and generally looked after him. He felt guilty for being such a leech. Though Praxis insisted that he need not worry, he could not help himself. He may be a demon, but to another demon, he was not going to be the pompous, spoiled brat he usually was. Not to someone like Praxis.  
Secondly, though he was ready to move out—his strength was back to what it was before that damned contract—Praxis would not let him leave until he had a steady place to stay. Before the war for the kingdom broke out, he lived there. After, he lived in a small section of the kingdom in an abandoned castle. When he came to earth, he lived with the Hidden, in a small house where they could recuperate, and generally let their guard down. He had considered going back to this place; the hidden were bound to be there. They were elements and only the shells that housed them were dead. But, in case they weren't there, he moved on. Besides, he had gotten their mortal bodies killed. Those bodies take months to achieve and tons of strength to keep up. Praxis would not let Blackheart go because he was, technically speaking, homeless. Though he could easily leave, no matter what Praxis says, a large part of him hoped that this place would become his home.  
How to ask Praxis though, that was going to be a problem.

Alchemy was having her own problems. She was fighting hard to keep an air of arrogance around her. From the moment she had laid eyes on Blackheart for those six blissful days he had been in her room three years past, she had been in love with him. Now he was back, vulnerable, and she was an adult. She didn't want to come on too strong, out of fear she would scare him off, which happened when she was sixteen. She had resolved that, if she had turned 21 and he hadn't returned, she would go find him, be him dead or alive, she had to know. She did everything to get him to notice her, including sleeping topless.  
In a cruel twist of fate, her ex-boyfriend had begun stalking her again. Though she had broken up with him over a year ago, he never could grasp the fact she was gone. There was little she could do but hold her head high and ignore him. Why she had gone out with him in the first place, she didn't know.  
As long as he didn't contact her in any way, Alchemy would be fine.

At roughly the same time every night, the soft glow of Alchemy's computer would wake him up, and Blackheart would strain his eyes in the odd light to see if Alchemy truly was sleeping without a shirt, or simply in a thin bra, or a short top. He half-believed she could never sleep entirely shirtless. Most demons tended to view clothing as outdated human morality, but to get by on Earth, one would have to comply too these outdated morals. Alchemy had been on earth her whole life, so she was ingrained with this moral code. Perhaps at night, her demon side shone through. Blackheart pondered these questions sometimes, when Alchemy was getting ready for bed, or during long stretches of time in the afternoons.

It was a lazy Saturday. Alchemy floated about on the surface of the pool while her father napped in the shade of a tree. Praxis and Blackheart remained on the deck, sitting quietly, watching either Alchemy float past, or nature.  
"Can we discuss something?" Blackheart asked quietly.  
"You feel guilty for staying here so long."  
He nodded, "it's not just that."  
"And yet you wish to stay here longer."  
Again, he nodded, "I don't want to impose. As one demon to another, I don't want to leech off you forever."  
Praxis laughed in a rather high-pitched voice, "you aren't leeching. You've come to think of this place as a home."  
"To a degree," he replied softly, gazing at Alchemy's stomach move with her breath.  
"It's settled then, this is your home."  
"You're just going to take me in?"  
"As one demon to another," She smiled.

"So," Alexander had turned to Blackheart at dinner, "Praxis has informed me you're moving in permanently."  
"What?" Alchemy asked.  
"He doesn't have a home," Praxis said, "and he can help with your work, you don't have to do it on our own now."  
"But, we don't have room. We're a hotel, not an apartment!"  
"He will remain in your room."  
At this, Alchemy's face fell. "Why do I have to sacrifice my space and privacy for him?"  
"You will do as you are told."  
Alchemy stood, and turned to leave. She stopped though, eyeing the plate of food that was barely touched. She flipped it upwards, toward her mother, spilling its contents across the table. At this, she stormed off and locked herself in her bedroom.  
A few minutes passed, and there was a knock at the door.  
"Who is it?" She called like a fourteen year old.  
"Blackheart," he answered quietly, "may I come in?"  
She crossed the room and unlocked the door, allowing him to enter before quickly closing and locking it again.  
"I wouldn't have asked to stay if I knew she was going to give your room to me."  
She waved her hand nonchalantly, "It's not your fault."  
He handed her a large bar of chocolate, "don't humans like chocolate when they are upset?"  
She smiled despite her tears, "yes, I suppose we do."  
"I don't want to be your enemy Alchemy, not if I'm moving in with you."  
Blackheart? Being selfless? Alchemy was sure he was delusional, or she was dreaming.  
She plopped down, cross-legged on one end of her bed, and motioned for Blackheart to do the same. She slowly unwrapped a section of the chocolate, "I hate my mother sometimes."  
"Last time I was here, you adored your mother."  
"Things change," Alchemy sighed, "She always seems to be disappointed in me. Like I can never do anything good enough." She took a small bite of the food, mulled it over and sighed again, "I want to...I want to have my own family and not run some 'demon hotel'. It was a stupid idea when she came up with it, and it's still a stupid idea!"  
Blackheart didn't say anything. He knew what it was like to live in a home where the parents acted disappointed in their children. Though his father was disappointed in him, he highly doubted Praxis resented or hated her daughter in any fashion. It always was hard for demons to show their affection.

In an attempt to repay Praxis, Blackheart took little jobs around the house. Jobs that were typically Alchemy's. Though Alchemy protested at first, she eventually caved and let him do her work.  
She enjoyed the time off.  
"It is so nice to have some extra help," Praxis smiled, nodding approvingly at Blackheart.  
"I learned everything from watching Alchemy. You have a very devoted daughter."  
Alchemy felt the colour rise in her face.  
Praxis' face pinched, "yes, well, it's nice to have someone who doesn't complain as much."  
Alchemy's face fell. She cast her glance down to her dinner plate. "I'm not hungry..." she said softly.  
"Before you go to bed, be sure to change the laundry over," Her mother said, taking a bite of the meat dish Alchemy had made for dinner. "By the way, this dish is overcooked."  
"I thought Dad would like something other than rare beef."  
Alexander nodded approvingly, but Praxis ignored her daughter.  
"Excuse me..." Alchemy said softly, walking slowly up the stairs to her room. She didn't lock the door this time, but rather sat quietly on her bed, staring at her mattress with a blank expression. So, her mother didn't appreciate her. And her father just sat by and did nothing.  
Without saying a word, Blackheart finished the dinner Alchemy had made—which he happened to find quite appetizing for a human dish—and went upstairs to see how the poor dear was doing. He silently crossed the room, and sat beside her. She shifted so he had more room, and she pulled her legs to her chest. She was nestled between her wall and Blackheart, and felt oddly safe. With tears streaming down her face, she fell into him, and slipped her hand into his. And without a word, Blackheart held her close.

She needed a friend, now more than ever.


	3. Cross

Alchemy was not like most demons. Most demons, both full- and half-breeds, had an aversion to any sort of Christian symbolism. Alchemy, however, had been baptized in her father's church, and even attended Sunday School for a period in her early years. Alchemy also wore a rosary. It was a pretty rosary, made of blue glass beads and silver. She kept it tucked in her shirt most of the time. When she wasn't wearing the rosary, she hung it over a corner of her mirror. Praxis often scolded her husband for giving Alchemy the rosary. It had been Alexander's mothers, and though she never lived long enough to see her granddaughter wear it, it was her wish to have her first-born granddaughter have the heirloom.

Blackheart was still lounging in bed when Alchemy was standing in front of her mirror, brushing her hair. She slid the rosary on.  
"You still wear that ridiculous thing?"  
"It was my grandmothers," Alchemy gently touched the cross.  
"Doesn't it hurt you?"  
She shook her head, "It feels warm."  
"But you're a demon."  
"I know," she replied, "it was her wish to see me wear it..."  
"So, you conform to it?"  
She scrunched her nose, "Why not?"  
"Because it goes against your very biology."  
"Crosses don't burn demons, they are just afraid to be associated with them, because of the history. Crosses aren't Christian, they are Roman, Celtic, pagan at their core, and if you think of it like that, then why does it matter?"  
"It isn't normal."  
She shrugged, "I never was normal, was I?"

Blackheart and Alchemy had grown much closer in a short period of time. Ever since Praxis had insulted both her daughter's cleaning and cooking, Alchemy was noticeably less cold toward Blackheart. On this lazy Tuesday, Alchemy was flipping through a cooking magazine Praxis purchased for her at the grocery store. An apology, probably from her father rather than her mother. There was a recipe for dessert-like cinnamon bread. It looked delicious. She quickly raided the pantry and began to make the dough.  
"What are you doing?" Blackheart had wandered into the kitchen.  
"I'm making bread, do you want to help?"  
Alchemy looked different with her hair pulled up in a messy knot. The rosary hung off the knot; electric blue contrasting beautifully off the jet colour of her hair. The small silver crucifix dangled elegantly at the back of her neck.  
"Why are you wearing that thing in your hair?"  
"This dough is sticky, and it could fall out of my shirt, it's safer to have it bobby-pinned in my hair." She rubbed her hands with flour, "do you want to help or not?"  
"Okay," He said.  
She took his hands and coated them with flour, "you can knead the dough."  
He looked aghast, "you mean mix it together with my hands?"  
She nodded, "it's not difficult." She smiled, "I'll teach you the way my aunt taught me. Stand behind me."  
"What?"  
"Trust me," She smiled, "now, put your hands over mine."  
Blackheart complied, wondering what this could possibly do with kneading dough. She began to work the dough, letting it squish between her fingers. Blackheart felt her hands move skilfully.  
"This is how you learned to make bread?"  
"My aunt is a master baker," Alchemy said cheerily, adding more flour to both their hands, "when I was at her house for a month one summer, she taught me to bake."

Once the dough began to come together, Alchemy disentangled herself.  
"What are you doing?" Blackheart asked, his hands covered in cinnamon bread dough.  
"Go on, keep kneading the dough. Feel it, let it speak to you."  
"Alchemy, it's dough..."  
"Trust me."  
By the time the bread was ready to go in the oven, Blackheart's once-immaculate vest was covered with flour, but he was smiling happily. Cooking with Alchemy was an adventure, especially when she threw raisins at him for twenty minutes. By the time the bread was done, both were happily laughing and (after a rather extensive clean-up)were talking like old friends, teasing each other.

That evening, Alchemy was reclining with her computer, as usual. Blackheart was reading, as usual.  
"Blackheart..." she said softly, a quiver in her voice.  
"What?"  
"I'm scared."  
"Scared of what?"  
"The rabbit in _Donnie Darko_."  
"Then why are you watching it?"  
"Please come watch it with me." She plugged another pair of headphones in her computer and handed them to him. Blackheart snorted lightly, but turned out his light and lay beside Alchemy. She was shivering. She latched onto him, still shivering.  
"It's only a film," he said.  
She didn't listen to him.

Before the movie had ended, she had fallen asleep in a quivering little ball. Carefully, Blackheart removed her headphones and shut down her computer. He carefully laid her in the center of her bed. Though he had known since he crawled into bed with her that she wasn't wearing a shirt, laying her on her back caused her breasts to be exposed to the darkness of her room. They rose and fell gently with her breath, perfect circles sitting on her chest. There was something elegantly beautiful about the way her hair fluttered about her face, and the way her hand was curled slightly, grasping the air. She had forgotten to take that stupid rosary off her neck, and it was resting between her breasts. The silver blended almost perfectly with her skin.  
Returning to his own bed, Blackheart tried to push the thoughts of Alchemy out of his mind. She was a good friend, and right now she needed a friend, not some demon fantasizing about her.

Something jumped lightly on the bed by Blackheart's feet. It woke up from a deep sleep. "The hell?" He asked, seeing a dark shape. His eyes focused, and there at the foot of his bed was the shape of a sixteen year old Alchemy. "Alche—" She pressed her finger to her lips. She crawled up the bed, sitting neatly between his legs. She ran a cold finger across his icy stomach. She propped herself up on her knees and stared up into his eyes. "Alchemy," he started to speak. Again, she just pressed her finger to her lips. Blackheart was sitting up now, leaning against his headboard. "Seriously, what are you doing?"  
Her reddish-black eyes blinked. Once. Twice. They stared at each other for a few minutes. Her sixteen year old body quivered with nerves. "I think you know."  
"Alchemy, go back to bed, you're sixteen."  
"I don't want to go back to bed." Her chest tightened in defiance.  
"You're sixteen."  
Her hand slid down his chest, "I don't care."  
He shivered, "Alchemy, you can't."  
"I can," she replied simply, hand trailing down further, "and I will." She eyed him carefully.  
He knew full-well what she was thinking. He could see it in her eyes. She was only sixteen years old. A child, really. But, she was persistent. She wouldn't give up. She wanted his attention, and figured this was the only way to get it. But of course, that thought was just ridiculous. She may have a harmless crush, but was she really going to risk everything, including her life. He could kill her for disobeying him, if he so desired. He could pick her up and put her back on her own bed, and stay up the night to watch her, and make sure she didn't try this again.  
However, his rational thought had ended. A slightly curved nail ran down his pubic bone.  
"Alchemy," He hissed out. She grinned slightly and lowered her left shoulder, then her right. She shot one last glance at him before bending her head down.  
He felt her cold breath on his groin. He tensed.  
"Alchemy, don't" he whispered. She smiled in response, a grin much too devious for a girl of her years. He gulped as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his leather pants, and hissed as she pulled down his pants. He gasped. _This is wrong_. _This is-_he lost his train of thought quickly: her small demon hand grasped his rapidly hardening member, and gave it one experimental pump. He gave a strangled moan and bucked his hips upwards. Alchemy grinned, pleased at eliciting such a response from Blackheart. He tried one more time to dissuade her from continuing, but all notions of making her stop disappeared the moment the teen demon's lips kissed his purpling head. She licked circles with her tongue on his head and took a couple inches slowly into her mouth. He gasped again, and moaned. She began to gently take the rest of his length into her cold mouth, gently holding down his trembling thighs. She began to gently bob her head up and down, gently scraping her teeth along his shaft.  
"Fuck, don't stop" he gasped. She complied, gently sucking in her cheeks to create a vacuum as she blew him. She increased her tempo, bobbing up and down faster. He gasped. She moaned in response and increased her pace. She could feel him trembling beneath her and he came in spurts of hot saltiness in her mouth. She raised her head, cum dripping out of the corners of her mouth and falling in between her luscious breasts. She swallowed and his eyes followed the movement of her throat.

In a tangle of sheets and sweat, he jolted awake, panting heavily. He rubbed his eyes and growled into the darkness. Here he was, a full-grown demon having pathetic wet dreams like some hormonal teenager. _Maybe_, he thought carefully to himself, _maybe it wasn't a dream...  
_He stole a quick glance at Alchemy, curled up under her duvet, snoring.  
Okay, so it was a dream.  
Still rubbing his eyes, he leaned against his headboard, questioning his mental state.  
"Oh come on," He whispered to himself, "She's not that pretty."  
_Aha_, a little voice in his head replied, _you are attracted to her.  
_"I am not."  
_You were fantasizing about her before you even fell asleep_.  
"Okay, so she's mysterious, that doesn't mean anything."  
_Yeah, but what do the semen-stained sheets mean?  
_He sighed. This was exactly what he needed.

----

Special thanks to SilverWng-Mryddin Ambrosius for this chapter!


	4. Apart

Alchemy was nestled quietly in her little blanket-nest. This was her favourite way to sleep. She was curled up in a little ball, elegant even though she was asleep. With the late morning sunlight seeping through the little cracks from where she lay to the edges of her duvet, she opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the lime green light she was bathing in. She yawned, and felt oddly at peace, content with the world around her. Everything was peaceful and quiet and, therefore, beautiful.  
A loud crash woke her from her dream-like state. She bolted up. "What the hell are you doing?"  
Whatever the hell Blackheart was doing, he stopped and suddenly looked guilty, "I, er, I was changing the bed sheets."  
"_Why_?" She asked, eyebrow raised.  
"Because," he was flustered, "it's only fair..."  
"You're an idiot." She curled back up under the blankets. The noise was muffled, and then eventually fell away entirely. It was like being in a womb; warmth pulsating all around, and she felt her gentle heart beat, the sound filling her ears. She fell back into a dream-like state again, not quite awake, but not asleep either. She lay there happily content with the dewy Tuesday light. It was morning, but what time? Nine? Ten? Maybe nine; that was usually her standard wake up time. She sat up, letting the covers fall away. The room was empty. "I could stay here all day," She said to herself.

Within the hour (it was ten when she woke up), she showered, dressed, and brushed her hair. It was still wet, so she pulled it into a simple knot at the back of her head.  
"Morning," She came down the stairs.  
There was a general murmur of hellos.  
Praxis serenely looked up at her daughter, "dressed rather nice for working at home..."  
Alchemy looked down at her summer dress. It was a simple black dress with a dark pink satin trim. It had broad straps, and a nice rounded neck. She smoothed the front, "I like this dress..."  
"Blackheart," Praxis snapped. Not angrily, just suddenly. "Tell me, is Mimi over-dressed?"  
She turned to face him, standing as straight as she could. His eyes trailed from her shoulders to her knees, then back to her neck. "It's fine," he said, refusing to look her in the eye.  
Alchemy looked down, "Mother, what groceries do we need?"  
Praxis handed her daughter a list, "take Blackheart with you. He's been inside for far too long."  
Alchemy nodded, quickly reading over the list and taking the car keys from the counter. She slipped into a pair of sandals and waved goodbye to her mother.

Alchemy rammed the keys into the ignition and let her head fall to the steering wheel.  
Blackheart, confused in the passenger's seat looked over, "What's wrong?"  
"Until you came, everything was fine. My mother didn't treat me like shit. Now you're here and she can't stand me."  
"I don't think your mother had anyone to look after until I got here. Praxis is in her element, taking care of the weak and sick."

The rest of the trip was quiet. Both were in contemplation.  
Alchemy noticed it right away: there was a coolness between her and Blackheart. Maybe he had only been nice to get on her good side, so that sharing a room wasn't sheer torture. Alchemy had always been fairly easily swayed by a pretty face and a man who could dish out compliments.  
Though, Blackheart did tend to insult her a lot. Playfully, of course.  
But...then....how come he could—or rather would—not look her in the eye? Had she done something? Had it been the cinnamon bread? Had she been too forward with asking him to watch _Donnie Darko_ with her, especially since she wasn't wearing a shirt? Would she end up scaring him away like last time?  
No, she pushed her thoughts away from her stupid mistakes from when she was sixteen.

Surely Alchemy wasn't blind to the fact that Blackheart had been unable to look her in the eye thus far in the day. Even when he asked her why she was upset, his eyes lingered on her cheek. It was that damn dream. Frankly, he didn't understand why it was bothering him so much. When he first woke up he felt out of control, but after he woke up in the morning, he realized that it was a perfectly normal occurrence.  
At least, that's what he had been told most of his life. He never had many of those sorts of dreams, even when he was a hormonal teenager.  
No, what threw him was the image of a sixteen year old Alchemy. Though she had fleshed out nicely as a nineteen year old, when she was sixteen she was more child than woman. Her hips were undeveloped and her chest was relatively flat. At the right angle, one could easily mistake hr for a girl of fourteen, if not younger. Her hair back then had been short and messy. She was also very thin back then. Skeletal. Her ribs were clearly visible when she breathed deeply. Though she ate more than enough food, she never gained weight.  
At nineteen, almost twenty, she had gained enough weight to be considered "normal". She was no longer skeletal. Her hips were broad, but not so wide that it was overly noticeable. Her breasts fleshed out to a good size for her frame; a C maybe a D? He wasn't sure. She was a woman now.

The two didn't talk much during the day. They spoke casually, but with a detachment neither had expected. That night, they only nodded to each other. Again, their eyes never met. But, for Blackheart, the dream came again. And again. And for a week, every night. And with each one of these dreams, he couldn't bear to look Alchemy in the eye. It was painfully apparent to both of them they were growing apart.

Praxis and Alexander were going on vacation. Though most years Alchemy joined them, this year she opted, or rather fought, to stay home.  
"I could have handled the house myself you know," Blackheart commented when he learned Alchemy was staying behind.  
"You think I want to spend time with them?" She snorted, "besides, I like being alone."  
"Um, I'm here, you're not alone."  
She slammed down the frying pan she was holding. She had been about to make dinner. "God damn it Blackheart, you know what I mean."  
"No, I fucking don't."  
"Don't fuck around, you've been avoiding me for two weeks."  
"What? How?"  
"You don't look me in the eye, you don't compliment me. Fuck, you don't even insult me anymore."  
"Wait, you _want_ me to insult you. Yeah, Alchemy, that makes a lot of sense."  
"Well, you used to." She replied, "always called me a silly little girl, or a stupid teenager."  
"Alchemy," He sighed, "right now, you ARE a silly little girl."  
She picked up the frying pan again, "Wanna say that again?"  
"Put the pan down," He replied coldly.  
"I want answers."  
"Answers to what?"  
"Why do you avoid me?" She lowered her arms, pan at her side, "We were so close, like real friends, then one day...we started growing apart."  
"You're imagining things."  
"No," She took a step closer to him, "No I'm not. I want to be your friend, and I don't think you want to be mine. I need a friend, now more than ever. My mother hates me, my father doesn't know what to do, I need to venture out on my own and embrace my demonic side, but I don't know how. My mother never taught me how to be a demon, you'll all I've got." He saw a few tears trail down her face.  
"You've always wanted to be independent, even when you were sixteen," he smiled slightly, "and you've always been very much in-tune to how people around you feel. Trust me Alchemy, I don't want to steal your mother away. I'm sorry if I've seemed distant, it was not my intention." He took the frying pan from her and grasped her hands, "friends?"  
She smiled, "Friends."

"A toast," Alchemy lifted her glass of wine.  
Blackheart waited for the rest of her speech. When it didn't come, he cocked his head, "Um, Alchemy?"  
"What?"  
"What are we toasting?"  
"To the fact that this is the first time my parents have left me in charge!" She smiled, "though, I am happy you are here as well."  
"Why? Don't like being home alone?"  
She took a sip of her wine, "I'm not the best alone."  
"Nonsense, a strong girl like you?"  
"Demon's are good at fighting, yes? We are, in this world, magical?"  
"Yeah."  
"My mother never showed me how to defend myself against, well, anything. I know fighting, but I don't know any magic. Mother never expected to be apart from me...never wanted me to grow up." She then smiled, drinking more wine.  
He never noticed it before, but she was really quite pretty when she smiled.

All in all, the seventeen days Blackheart and Alchemy spent home alone were the most fun either of them had in the two months they had been living under the same roof.  
He even managed to forget the wet dreams during the daytime.


	5. Exotic

Alexander had returned from their Arabic adventure with a tan. Praxis returned as pale as she had ever been, but wearing pretty summer dresses that were perfect for August weather instead of her usual garb of almost Victorian clothing.  
Both of them looked wonderfully refreshed.  
Praxis was even in a good mood with her daughter.  
Soon after they arrived, and settled in, Praxis carried a new suitcase to her usual chair, "I have presents for both of you."  
Alchemy sat on the floor by her mother's feet while Blackheart perched on the coffee table. "Mother, you didn't have too," Alchemy pressed.  
"But dear, I wanted to." Alchemy smiled, "first for you Blackheart," She handed him a wrapped package.  
He took it, but didn't open it. Praxis sighed angrily, "What are you waiting for?"  
"Oh," He looked down, "You want me to open it now?"  
Praxis nodded.  
Slowly, he unfolded the plastic bag and carefully slipped the box out. Cocking his head, he opened the box. Inside was a lovely necklace, in silver, with a large obsidian heart pendant.  
"Do you get it?" she asked.  
"It's a black heart," he nodded, "I get it."  
"Do you like it?"  
"It's funny," He commented, "I think I'll hang it on my bed. Thank you Praxis."  
She turned now to her daughter, "Mimi," she passed over a box.  
"Thank you mother," Alchemy set to untying the ribbons around the box. Once inside, she discovered beautiful clothing from Morocco. A smaller box inside the larger one contained a wide assortment of jewellery. "Oh, mother!"  
"Quiet now Alchemy," Her mother smiled, "I know how much you adore belly dancing. I mean, you practise all the time."  
Alchemy blushed, "I do love it."  
"Well, know you have the costume to show us."  
"I'll set a routine right away!" She had a wide smile plastered on her face, "thank you so much."  
"I have something else for you," Praxis smiled and pulled a glass bottle out, "Perfume, I know how much you love the smells of Arabia." She sprayed some in the air.  
"It's wonderfully exotic." Alchemy inhaled deeply.

Alchemy was in a good mood for the rest of the day. She didn't pull out the new clothing or jewellery, however.  
"Why didn't you go to Africa and the Middle East when you love the culture so much?" Blackheart was leaning in the doorframe of the kitchen, keeping his voice low so Praxis –who was setting the table—couldn't hear.  
"I didn't want to spend seventeen days overseas with them," She whispered back, "I prefer your company." She carefully tasted the sauce she was making, "besides, I can always go some other time."  
Blackheart shrugged, not pressing the subject.

Praxis must have been pleased to be home. "Alchemy, I daresay your cooking has improved since I was away," she had just sampled a piece of chicken in a mushroom sauce.  
Alchemy smiled, but for some odd reason, it was Blackheart who took more pride in the compliment. Hearing Praxis give her daughter the praise she so sorely fought for made him feel strange. Like it was his wife she had complimented.  
Of course, the very notion was absurd. They had grown close in these days alone. Though he had to force himself to forget the very stimulating dream involving a young Alchemy, the two had formed a tight bond of friendship. He was simply proud of a friend who deserved the praise.  
Yes, that was it.

That evening when both of them had retired to their room, Alchemy still refused to show Blackheart the costume.  
"I want it to be a surprise," She said, placing the box in her closet.  
Blackheart sighed and hung his new obsidian pendant on the corner of his bed, "You're being stupid."  
"Look, in a couple weeks I'll put on a show for you and my parents, you'll see it then."  
"What if I want to watch you practise?"  
"I'll fucking kill you."  
"Well, that settles that then," He rolled his eyes, "I'm going to bed."  
"Goodnight then."

For the next two weeks, everyone saw little of Alchemy. She spent her time in the basement with her belly dance mix playing endlessly. Blackheart wanted a glimpse of this costume of hers, even if his better judgement told him it was a bad idea. Not because she would kill him, but because belly dancing was the most exotic, erotic art form he could think of. And to see a grown up Alchemy swaying her hips would be almost too much. Even just thinking about it made him crazy. Though the images that came to his mind were very enticing and engaging, but he kept denying any interest in her beyond a very good friendship.  
Whenever they did see Alchemy, she was usually drenched in sweat, and her hair was matted. She would quickly eat and cool down, then go right back to work, unless it was late, in which case she would take a shower and collapse into sleep.  
As she slept, and as her recital date drew closer, Blackheart watched her closely, curious as to what her routine was like.  
What colour was her costume? Did it contrast her skin, or did it blend in seamlessly?  
Was it a modest costume? Did it show only a bit of her belly? Did it show a lot of skin? Did the bra have a deep plunge? How high did the skirt cut up?  
What did her dance include? Was it more in her hips or shoulder?  
These questions and their possible answers, however, caused other things to pop up. Luckily, Alchemy was working herself to exhaustion, and she would not wake on the off chance he made any sound. Though, without fail, he always felt guilty after the fact. He tried to keep his mind from wandering.  
Luckily, he didn't have to deny himself much longer.

The day arrived when Alchemy was scheduled to perform her belly dance. She cooked an Arabic meal for the family in the mid-afternoon.  
It was a large feast, and the house smelt wonderful. Even though her parents were thoroughly tired of Arabic cuisine, they still sampled her food.  
Alchemy, however, did not partake in the meal. She was preparing for the dance.  
After the rose-water drinks were served by Praxis, a sign that the dance was ready to begin, the three went downstairs.  
The place had been decorated with large pillows and silken canopies that Alchemy had purchased a few days before. Red tones were everywhere, but once the three of them had settled, the lights went out, and only a soft glow from some hidden source cast a very light red glow on the "harem".  
Alchemy had set up a couple of incense burners, gently wafting a scent throughout the room. It was not a strong scent, but it did fill the room.  
"That's sandalwood, and cedar," Praxis commented. Blackheart didn't care. He sat happily, drinking in the scent.  
But, suddenly, a new smell was added to the air. The exotic perfume Praxis had brought back.  
They heard Alchemy long before they saw her. Her "stage" was dark, for the spotlights she had rigged up were not on. She was dancing on the hardwood in the basement, with the gaming tables out of the way of course. She hung a black drape up behind her.  
The music began, and the lights came up, and Blackheart was stunned.

He began at her feet. Her left foot had a silver anklet decorated with small coins. Attached to the ankle decoration was a thin chain that connected to a silver flower on a toe ring. On her right was a much simpler decoration with just silver bells. The bells jingled perfectly with the music.  
Her skirt was long, and very flowing. When she turned or spun, the fabric also spun out. The skirt was tight on her upper thighs, but her calves were shown often. The fabric itself was a cherry red under a semi-sheer black.  
She had begun to move her hips. Blackheart watched the beaded belt she was wearing. It was black, red and silver. The beading closest to the main belt was black, then dangled down changing to white then to red. It made a wonderful noise as she moved. The belt had little pieces of mirror in it, which reflected the light and created a wonderful pattern as she danced. There was also a medallion of sorts in the middle of her belt; silver beadwork in the shape of flowers with a red background and black boarder.  
Her hips swayed elegantly. His eyes rested for a moment on her glistening body. It must have been oiled up, for it was shiny.  
She hit her tambourine against her hip, and he noticed her hands. On her left was a beautiful red beaded bracelet with a few bells and connecting to a silver chain that her fingers fit through. On her right, the hand holding the tambourine, was a cuff around the upper part of her arm. It was silver with many bells that matched the music as well.  
His eyes then rested on the beaded bra she wore. In the middle, a triangle of beaded fell; black, then white, then ending in red, just like the belt. On the cups of the bra, the same pattern fell, along with smaller beaded medallions along the inner edges of both sides. The bra connected to beaded straps that then connected to a choker. The choker was beaded with red with a black boarder, until it met it the middle, resting right at the hollow of her neck. The choker then formed a circle of beads. In the very center of the circle were black beads, then a rim of silver, and finally red. Hanging from the middle of this choker was another beaded decoration, in the same pattern as before: black, white, red. It sat comfortably between her breasts.  
All those beads hitting her skin must hurt, Blackheart thought.  
Her makeup matched her outfit: black, silver, red.  
Alchemy's long black hair was brushed out flat and straight, and it twirled excellently. Resting atop her head was a headdress. Silver, of course, made of a fine chain that went all around and had beads dangling from it. In the center was a silver medallion, a simple floral pattern. The medallion had three bells attached to it, resting right between her eyebrows.  
Alchemy was just stunning. Her movements, her smile, her costume. Everything about her was truly beautiful.

All too soon, according to Blackheart, the dance ended. He must have applauded the hardest, because he was the first one she hugged when she ran over. He, however, had to quickly push her aside, lest she feel the massive erection he had been trying to hide.  
Everyone congratulated her, and even if she was drenched in sweat and her face was flushed, she felt really sexy and had fun dancing.  
Since it was late, and she was tired, Alchemy retired to her room. She had hoped to spent some time alone, just looking at herself, but found Blackheart in their room.  
"That was amazing," He commented when she came in, still in full costume, "where'd you learn to do that?"  
"YouTube, mostly."  
"It was..."  
She smiled, "it's not that hard, really." She started to slowly twirl her hips, "it starts with the hips." She added in basic shoulder movements, "then you add the arms, and begin to pose. Once you have enough poses, you execute them rapidly, and set it to music." She took off her bangles and jewellery, "I'm going to take a shower, then probably pass out. That was exhausting."  
She exited the room, but returned quickly, wrapped in a towel.  
"Sorry," She said, "I just had to hang up my costume."  
"Don't...worry about it..."  
She left for good this time, because he heard the shower running.

"I really hate that girl sometimes," he curled up in bed, quietly nestled under a warm duvet. "I really do hate her." And, of course, by "hate" he had meant "given him a massive erection that would not just vanish randomly". The situation was quickly ebbed within a few short moments, and luckily he had finished and managed to fall asleep by the time Alchemy returned from the shower, and collapsed on her own bed.

Unfortunately, a trial was fast approaching.


	6. Breakfast

Praxis let Alchemy sleep late into the afternoon. She rose at one in the afternoon, legs still sore from dancing and there were small bruises on her chest and stomach from where the beads hit her skin repeatedly. She didn't even bother to brush her hair when she went downstairs.  
Much to her delight, she found a large floral arrangement.  
"Your father bought it for you," Praxis told her, "lilies are your favourite?"  
"He didn't have too..."  
"Flowers are traditional."  
Alchemy nodded and yawned, walking lazily into the kitchen for something to drink. She kept her head down, and didn't notice she was walking into Blackheart until she actually collided with him.  
"Good morning Sleeping Beauty."  
"Shut up," Alchemy grinned, pushing past him and pouring herself a glass of juice.  
"Sleep well?"  
She laughed lightly, "Yeah, it was great to sleep as late as I wanted; my legs hurt though."  
"I wouldn't doubt it," he smirked, "no more dancing for a while?"  
"Don't sound so disappointed," She smiled, "play your cards right, and I'll do another routine," she stepped closer to him, quite literally an inch away from his face, "if you're really nice to me, it'll be just for you." He felt her cold breath on his lips, mere millimetres away from each other. The corners of her mouth flicked into a smile.

Did she know? Did she know that for a little over a month he had fantasized about her? Her eyes told him she had no idea, but that twitching smile made him think she did. How much like Praxis was she? Praxis could read the thoughts of human, demon and angel alike, but could her half-breed daughter? He was very careful with his thoughts, guarding them as best he knew how, but in a moment of weakness could Alchemy read his thoughts? If her mother could, surely she could as well?  
Then again, her mother had never taught her a damn thing.

"Alchemy!" Her mother leaned into the kitchen over the bar. Quickly, she snapped out of her trance and backed away from Blackheart slightly.  
"Yes mother?"  
"Did I interrupt something?"  
"No, mother," Alchemy angrily took a sip of her juice, "what do you want?"  
"I'm going to get the groceries," she held up a folded piece of paper, "just letting you know."  
Alchemy snorted, "Thanks mother, I'll help you when you get back."  
She walked out of the kitchen, sitting cross-legged on the couch, watching some film Blackheart had never heard of.

Damn.  
He had been so close. So fucking close. He could see the small little eye lashes in the corners of her eyes. He could distinguish the four shades of red in her irises. He could smell the coconut shampoo she used in her hair. He could feel her cold breath.  
Then Praxis has to interrupt.  
Blackheart was bitter the rest of the day; not talking to Praxis. He kept trying to get close with Alchemy, but the moment was gone. Maybe she would try it again when they were alone in their room. He tried to draw attention to himself, but Alchemy was wrapped up in her online world.

She had been typing furiously for at least half an hour. Her forehead was creased, and she chewed on her lip nervously. Her hands flew across her keyboard, becoming a virtual blur.  
She leaned back, throwing her hands down, exasperated. Blackheart was quick to notice. "Not to be rude or anything Alchemy..."  
"What?" She snapped at him. Her eyes were full of fire, and she looked very sharp instead of the gentle young woman she usually was.  
He was taken aback, "I was wondering what's wrong..."  
She ran a hand through her hair, "my ex boyfriend wants to have breakfast with me tomorrow morning."  
Blackheart felt a pang of jealously. He quickly tried to shake it off and went back to focusing on Alchemy. She was crying a bit.  
"Oh," he stood and sat beside her, "don't cry Alchemy, you don't have to go if you don't want to."  
"He's never accepted the fact that we broke up. It's been almost a year."  
"What are you going to do?"  
"I don't know, go I guess. But I don't want to tell mother."  
She started crying harder.  
Blackheart put his arm around her, and turned her face to look at him, "we'll tell her that you and I are going out for breakfast." He smiled and rubbed her tears away with his thumb, "if this guy is really bothering you..."  
"I know what you're thinking; I don't want him dead, I want him to leave me alone."  
"I can do that too."  
She smiled, "I'd appreciate you lying to my mother for me, and just sitting in the car."  
She turned back to her computer, and typed off a reply: "I'll be there at eight am." After this, she shut down her machine, and sighed, fingering her lacy tank top. She quickly ripped it off and threw it on the floor. "Oh," She noticed Blackheart again, and quickly pulled her duvet to her neck, "I'm sorry."  
"I figured that out a long time ago; it's okay."  
She relaxed a little.  
He began to stand up, but she whimpered slightly. "Blackheart? I know there isn't a lot of room in my bed, but will you please stay with me?"  
She was really worried. He nodded and slid back into bed. She quickly laid down, and gripped his hand. She whispered "thank you," and promptly fell asleep.

Blackheart stayed up for a while, watching her in a peaceful slumber. He had her in a protective embrace, and her hands were locked in his. In the very pale light of the moon, she looked like a little doll. This was, oddly enough, the time when Blackheart thought she was the most beautiful.  
Her lips twitched into a small smile. She was dreaming.  
He lightly kissed her cheek, and settled down to sleep.

Something was rubbing his back. He rolled over slightly to discover a still dreaming Alchemy pressed up firmly against his back. Her eyes, though closed, were fluttering rapidly. Her legs were slowly entwining themselves with his, wrapping around him, like she was being carried on his back.  
Then he felt it. She slammed her crotch into his back, groaning slightly. He shook her off a bit, and she wound up on her back. He watched her for a minute. She thrashed around a bit, but not too violently. She was mostly covered up with the duvet, but he had a general idea where her hand was. He really couldn't look away. He felt wrong for watching a sleeping Alchemy masturbate furiously, but he could not tear his eyes away from her arching back and bouncing breasts.  
A bead of sweat formed around her hairline, and she whimpered slightly, mouthing nonsense words. Her head rolled around on her pillow as she writhed in pleasure, face contorting. She was frighteningly quiet; usually when Alchemy slept she made noise. Not like talking in her sleep, or snoring badly, but she made little noises like a kitten, little chirps and coos.  
However, as she reached her peak, she said a single word. Perhaps "said" isn't the right term. She breathed it out, shakily.  
This caught Blackheart's attention, for it was his name.

Alchemy remembered nothing of her dream, but awoke as the sun rose and watched the pinkish hues of the sky illumine her room. It looked so calm, and so beautiful.  
Blackheart felt the sun on his face, and opened his eyes. He noticed Alchemy sitting up. She must have heard him wake up, because she turned serenely to face him, "Today is the big day."  
"You make it sound like you're going to be killed."  
"He was a volatile man..."  
He sat up, "did he hurt you?"  
"If anything, I hurt him. He tried to kill himself after I did it. But I had to get away. I was in love with someone else, someone I vowed to be with long before I ever dated."  
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on her shoulder, "Alchemy, you're going to be fine. Besides, if he tries anything, I'll be right in the car."  
She nodded, "I owe you."  
"No, you don't," he scoffed. Indeed, she did not owe him anything; she gave him more than she thought.  
They continued to watch the sun rise before climbing out of bed and getting ready.

"You're up early," Praxis commented as the two were downstairs at quarter to eight.  
"We're going out for breakfast," Alchemy replied, "be back later."  
"Don't be too late," Praxis said, "you have laundry to do."  
Alchemy sighed angrily and quickly grabbed her set of car keys.

He was already there. She saw him in the window. He had joined the police force now, and was still in basic training. She parked the car so Blackheart could watch the scene from the car. "Well, this is it," she commented.  
"Are you sure you don't want me there?"  
"I think I'll live..." She smiled slightly, "I'll be back soon."  
He nodded and watched her walk into the restaurant. The man stood as she approached, and tried to hug her. She quickly slid into the booth before he had his chance. "It's been over a year," Alchemy began.  
"It has." There was silence. "I ordered you a coffee, if that isn't too forward of me," he pushed the steaming mug over.

Blackheart didn't like him. He was scrawny, with a bad haircut and homely features. He kept trying to hold Alchemy's hand, and even though Blackheart was in the car, he could tell she was shooting looks of pure venom.  
"You've been stalking me online, haven't you?"  
"Sometimes," he admitted, "I love you."  
"I told you before, I don't love you. I don't even like you. We went out because I was desperate."  
"But you can change," he looked like he was about to cry.  
"Before I even met you I was in love with another man, a man I promised myself I would marry."  
"And where is he now?"  
"He's sitting in my car; he is my fiancée after all..." He stood. This was not the answer he was expecting "What are you doing?"  
"To take what's mine."  
He bolted out of the restaurant toward the car. Blackheart straightened up as he came forward.  
"Stop it!" She yelled.  
"No, I want to see what I'm up against."  
"You'll be killed."  
"I don't care."  
"Let me tell him first then."  
He stopped about halfway to the car, "fine then."  
She strode quickly past. Blackheart opened the door.  
"He wants a fight...to 'claim' me," she whispered, "he thinks we're in a close relationship, engaged."  
Blackheart looked over at him, "I can take him down in an instant."  
"I don't want you to kill him."  
"Get out of the car," he yelled. Blackheart gently pushed Alchemy out of the way. His long, billowy jacket flared out as he walked.  
"You're Alchemy's ex?"  
He nodded, "and you're her fiancée?"  
Blackheart nodded triumphantly, "I can see why she broke up with you. You're weak, pathetic. You couldn't handle her."  
"Can you, Goth boy?" He nodded over at her, "you know what she is?"  
"Besides too much of a woman for you?"  
"She's a demon."  
Blackheart was now right in front of him, "I know." He growled deeply, eyes turning black and smiling to reveal his demonic teeth, "so am I."  
The other man quivered, "I'm not afraid of you."  
Blackheart smirked as his pale skin started to reveal his purple veins, like cracks across his face. "You know what I could to you?" He circled around, "I could...rip your heart out and devour it while it still beat. I could...peel your skin off like an orange and let you bleed out. I could...make you explode. I could do any of these things, and more. I have a way to kill you for each time you've stalked my future wife. I have a way to kill you for each time you've made her fear for her life." He stopped circling and stood behind him, "If you don't leave her alone, and accept that this is goodbye," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "I'll make you wish you were never born." With that, he walked back to Alchemy, and slid into the car, looking very smug and proud of himself.  
Once they were in the car and driving away, Alchemy let out a nervous laugh.  
"He won't bother you again."  
She smiled, "I really owe you now. How about some breakfast?" She pulled into a drive-through fast food place and purchased coffee and a breakfast sandwich thing. It was not terrible, though Blackheart preferred Alchemy's cooking.  
"Thank you," She said while picking at her sandwich, "if he hadn't been afraid of me, he would have pulled his gun on you."  
"How do you know?"  
"He wanted you dead Blackheart, he thought you were my fiancée. You had stolen his prize."  
"You are not a prize to be won Alchemy," Blackheart said suddenly, "you are a woman who is strong and fiercely proud of what she has accomplished. If anything, your future husband will be your prize, not the other way around."  
Alchemy smiled, and leaned over to kiss his cheek, but she quickly blushed and took a sip of her coffee.  
This had been the most exciting breakfast either of them had ever experienced.


	7. Turn Back Time

The rest of the day was fairly routine after The Breakfast Fight (as Blackheart began to call it). He admired her strength, proud of what she had done. She could have just said "no", or fought him herself, but she tried to resolve things.  
Clearly, she felt guilty about hurting him.  
But, Blackheart also noticed, she seemed to act much freer now. Nothing seemed to hold her back anymore. She had mentioned before that he stalked her online, and it was possible he stalked her in real life as well.  
Now, he was too scared to go near her, lest Blackheart disembowel him.  
"It took courage, for what you did today Alchemy," Blackheart told her as she sat on her bed.  
"You did most of the work."  
"You agreed to meet with him."  
"Stop it," The cornered of her mouth twitched, "flattery will get you nowhere." He moved at sat across from her. She shut her book and watched him. "What?" she asked.  
He shook his head, "I'm proud of you, I really am."  
She arched an eyebrow, "are you trying to get a private belly dance out of me?"  
He shrugged, "the idea crossed my mind."  
She grinned sneakily, "well, you did save my ass today."  
"So is that a yes?"  
"Perhaps..." she replied, leaning slightly closer.

Was it happening again? The same thing that happened yesterday afternoon? She was obviously inching closer to him, and he was doing the same.  
Yes! It was happening.  
She was so close. He felt her cold breath, and shivered slightly. She looked up at him, red eyes shining. Without really thinking, he pulled her toward him. She was sitting on her knees, half beside him. He swallowed hard. She looked so beautiful, sitting there, waiting patiently for him to make a move.  
But, it was her who moved first. She raised her arms, slipping them around his neck. His icy blue eyes met her fiery ones. The little lashes in the inner corners of her eyes looked larger than usual. Her eyes closed slightly as she planted a soft kiss on the outer corner of his mouth.  
His hands found their way to her waist, and he caught her mouth with his, pressing his lips firmly against hers. She leaned into him, her chest pressing against his.  
They broke their long kiss and stared at each other.  
A small smirk crossed her lips as she threw herself back on him, kissing him ferociously. In fact, the intensity with which made the pair topple against Alchemy's footboard. Blackheart heard a crack in his shoulder, but he ignored it, preferring to see where this making out would take them.  
Their teeth clinked against each other as Alchemy forced herself as deep into his mouth as she could. Her hands tailed across his face and shoulders as her kisses moved down his neck.

Blackheart didn't even notice she was fumbling to untie the knot on the cotton pants he usually wore to sleep in.  
"What the...?" He looked down, "Alchemy?"  
She looked up, "What?"  
"What are you doing?"  
"Well..." She straightened up, "I was..." she lightly ran her hand over his crotch, "you know..."  
He backed up slowly, "Alchemy, you can't be serious."  
"Don't you want me to?" Her brow creased, worryingly.  
"Yes...I mean no...I mean..." She attempted to manually stimulate him more, but he grabbed her wrists.  
"Let go of me!" She said, struggling.  
He threw down her hands and pushed her away roughly. He quickly stood and started pacing.  
"Alchemy, what happened three years ago?"  
She went on her knees, watching him, "you came here for seven days, but left early morning on the sixth."  
"Why was I here?"  
She looked very worried now, "don't you remember? You were on the run, from the Ghost Rider."  
"I know that," he growled, "why'd I leave early?"  
Alchemy shrugged guiltily, looking away, "I don't know."  
He flew at her, taking hold of her shoulders, "Don't fuck around with me little girl, I know you know."  
She refused to look him in the eye.  
"What happened?" He yelled throatily, "Tell me!"  
She angrily looked away, "fine. You want the truth?" She sighed, "On your sixth night here, when you were in a deep sleep, I crawled into bed with you, and gave you a blowjob."  
He threw her down, "_what_?"  
"You heard me," she hissed, "I wanted you to stay with me forever, so I gave you a blowjob."  
He turned away, "god damn it Alchemy."  
"I was sixteen," She stood, "you hated me, what did you expect me to do?"  
"Have a bit more sense than that!"  
She felt tears form in her eyes, "Fuck it all Blackheart. I was a child. I was stupid. What do you want me to do? Apologise for giving you a good time?" She walked toward him, "You could have stopped me, and you didn't. You wanted it, don't deny it."  
Without warning, Blackheart turned and pushed her aside with such force, Alchemy ended up crashing half on her bed and half on the floor.

He turned away, still angry.  
"I loved you." She said softly, "I would have given you the world. Fuck, I still love you. Did I do something stupid when I was sixteen? Yeah, I did. But who hasn't? It's not something I'm proud of Blackheart. Every god damn day I wished I could go back in time and make it all better. But I did it, and if you want to leave again then go now. If I have to stop loving you, I will." She shakily stood up and sat on the edge of her bed.  
Alchemy loved him? Blackheart didn't know what to think. He had just hit the woman who loved him. Guilt flooded him. "Alchemy...I..." He said softly, "I didn't know."  
"You didn't know what?" She asked bitterly, tenderly poking at a newly forming bruise on her arm.  
"I didn't know you loved me."  
"Yeah," she replied, "why else would I go down on you?"  
"I...I just hit the woman who loves me." He turned slowly to look at the hunched over Alchemy nursing her arm, "I just...hit the woman I love..."  
She looked up.  
"Alchemy," He flew over to her, kneeling down to meet her at eye level, "Alchemy, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I really didn't."  
"I think I'll live," She said with a small smirk, "I think I would have been more worried if you had played nice."  
"You're forgiving me?"  
She smiled, "Please Blackheart, it's not that bad. You're not an abuser; you're a demon like me. We lash out when we are angry. I'm not going to hold that against you."  
"Should we call your mother? Get you to the hospital...?"  
She laughed, "I'm okay. It's only a bruise." He examined her arm. The purple bruise was already forming. She hit her arm on the wooden frame of her bed. It looked dark against her pale skin. "Can you forgive me for a stupid teenage mistake?"  
"I've been having dreams about it. For over a month now, I've had the same dream, where you're sixteen and giving me a blowjob. Now I know it's a memory."  
She put her hand on his face, "it's fate, you know."  
He smirked, "maybe it is."  
She gave him a light kiss, "come on, let's go to bed. It's been a long day for both of us."

She let him share her bed again.


	8. Hesitate

Both Praxis and Alexander asked Alchemy about her bruise. She said she tripped and crashed into her bed. When she said this, she shot a devious glance at Blackheart, who looked away guiltily. He was still torn up about hitting her.

Alchemy was folding laundry upstairs. She sat in the large laundry room and was folding towels when Blackheart came in.  
"Stop looking so guilty," Alchemy said softly, "Mother will suspect something."  
"She wouldn't kick me out, would she?"  
"Not about that," She hissed, "about us."  
"Alchemy, I don't follow."  
"I don't want her to know about _us_."  
He nodded with understanding, "why not?"  
"I don't like telling my mother things," She shrugged, "please." She stood up, "help me fold the sheets?"

Blackheart was never one for taking orders, so he did tease and test Alchemy. She was cooking dinner one evening, and Blackheart came over, and began kissing her neck.  
"I'm cooking," She whispered.  
"So?"  
"My parents!" She growled, "get off me."  
"You like it," He taunted like a child.  
"That isn't the point. Now go set the table before I seriously hurt you." She had been fighting him off most of the day. Since the revelation they both had a week ago, Blackheart had been trying to get her to break down and tell her parents that they were sharing a bed now. She never really liked her parents knowing things about her life, and had waited until the last minute to tell them about things like prom, graduation, or even field trips. Alchemy was secretive, to say the least. Even if she was overjoyed that she and Blackheart were finally together, she would keep her mouth shut until the very last minute. She had a suspicion that her mother knew _something_ was up, but tried to push those thoughts out of her mind.

Blackheart hadn't felt this confident and arrogant in a long time. Sure, he hadn't really accomplished much, but getting to crawl into bed with Alchemy every night _felt_ like an accomplishment. He wanted to flaunt her; show her off. He swelled with pride when she walked into a room.

It was a dreary, rainy, chilly day in early-October. The house smelt of pumpkin, for Alchemy was baking. Alexander was at work. He may have helped his wife run their hotel, but he was a full-time bookkeeper. Praxis had slipped out to the fabric store to pick out Halloween costumes. Alchemy had nestled herself on the counter, flipping mindlessly though her recipe book. She liked the flavours of fall. "Why is your mother getting Halloween costumes anyway?" Blackheart leaned against the counter.  
"Every year, the Friday before Halloween, our neighbours have a costume party for everyone on the block nineteen and over. My mother always wows everyone with her couple's costume entry. They usually win."  
"Are you going this year?"  
"Yes," she put down her magazine and pulled him over in front of her, smirking, "and you are too."  
He tried to back away, "What? I don't want to dress up like some moron in a room full of mortals!"  
She bit her lip and put her legs around his waist, "come on," she said silkily, "for me?" She leaned closer, pressed firmly against his chest.  
"Why should I?"  
"Because, it would mean a lot to me," She said quietly. She kissed his neck lightly, "please?" She whispered again.  
The garage door opened, and they quickly disentangled. Alchemy checked the muffins she was baking.  
"I am brilliant." Praxis happily bounded through the door. Blackheart raised an eyebrow.  
"She likes Halloween," Alchemy took the muffins out of the oven.  
"I have the best costumes for all four of us." Praxis threw her bags on the table, "well! Come see!"  
"Mom, I was just going to go as a belly dancer."  
"Come see!"

Alchemy put three hot muffins on a plate, and sat cross-legged on the table. Praxis sat elegantly in a dining chair, and Blackheart stood at the edge of the table, halfway between the other two.  
Praxis blew on her muffin and took a bite gingerly. She dug around one bag, and produced a pattern. "Blackheart," she passed it over, "You're going as the Prince of Darkness."  
"Subtle Praxis…" He eyed the pattern.  
"Alchemy," She passed over another pattern, "naughty nun."  
"Mother, this is a rather…risqué costume." At this, Blackheart leaned over to see the image printed on the pattern sleeve.  
"I know," Praxis took another bite of her muffin, "It's your first year, you have to win the Virgin Award."  
Alchemy rested her hand in her forehead, "are you serious? I could just go as a belly dancer."  
"You're going as a nun."  
Alchemy changed the subject, "who are you and Dad going as?"  
"This is where the brilliance comes in." Praxis threw down two patterns, both Indian in design. "Shah Jahan," she took another bite of her muffin, "and his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal."  
Alchemy smiled, "That is good. I didn't think you could top Lolita and Humbert."  
"You should have seen the looks on everyone's faces…" Praxis recalled fondly. "I'm going to start tomorrow."

Alchemy looked at her costume again. It was one thing to wear a sexy costume with her family, but it was another to wear it to a block party. She looked nervous, but would please her mother. Besides, the prizes for best costumes were usually really good. She would like to win the Virgin Award.

"Why do you have to be nineteen to go to this party?" Blackheart asked as the two went to bed.  
"Legal drinking age. The homeowners don't want to be in trouble for underage drinking."  
"You don't look too thrilled with your costume."  
"You don't look thrilled with yours either."  
He shrugged as best one could when one is laying down, "It's not very original."  
"Your costume is easy. She's just making you a waistcoat. Everything else you own."  
He nodded, "that's true." He rolled over to face her.  
"What?" She asked.  
"A nun?" She eyed him. "You're going to win that award you know. The Virgin award."  
"Probably…"  
"You'll be the talk of the party," he propped himself on his elbow, "no matter what you would wear."  
"And why is that?"  
"Because you are the most beautiful girl in this city."  
"Just the city?"  
He half-grinned, "well…" He leaned up and caught her lower lip in a kiss. She followed suit and kissed him hard. She had always liked it a little rough. His nose scrunched into a smile and half rolled on top of her. They kissed passionately for a while. His hand was trailing along her pale legs. He tried to push his hand up her short skirt, but she slapped him away. "What's wrong?" She looked away when he tried to kiss her again. "Alchemy," he pressed.  
She mumbled something, he growled.  
"I'm not ready for that, okay?" She pushed him away and sat up, "I'm just…not ready."  
He eyed her curiously, "You gave me a blowjob at sixteen."  
"That's different."  
"How?"  
"Because…" she said defiantly, then hunched over, "do you really want to know?"  
"Yes!"  
"My...doctor says that sex is going to be hard for me."  
He raised an eyebrow, "hard how?"  
"I'm too narrow; my hymen is too thick and only partially torn…" she said bitterly.  
He slumped down beside her, "I don't know much about women," he said quietly, "but I understand that virginity is more…complicated for them."  
She looked down at him sideways, "I'm sorry…"  
"Why?"She half-grinned. His eyes followed hers down. "Oh…" he haphazardly made the attempt to cover his erection, "it'll go away."  
She sighed, "now I feel guilty."  
"Don't," he shrugged, "you do this to me all the time."  
She sighed again, "don't make it worse."  
"I was hoping that would make it better…"  
She laughed lightly, "I'm really tired."  
He nodded, and kissed her cheek, "goodnight…naughty nun."  
She playfully swatted him and settled to bed.

She did feel really guilty though. She felt guilty very easily.

Halloween came in a burst of chilly weather, and to both Praxis' and Alchemy's dismay, an early flu bug. Alchemy's immune system had always been weak: humans and demons weren't supposed to breed (it was a miracle Alchemy made it this far), and when cold and flu season rolled around, Alchemy was always sick. She had degenerated into a shaking mass of pajamas, quilts, and used Kleenex on the couch by the time of the party. Alchemy coughed so hard, she would often throw up, and she sneezed so hard, she managed to give herself nosebleed after nosebleed. And on top of it all, she felt guilty. Despite Praxis' constant assurances that it was not her fault, Alchemy broke down crying the moment her parents left for the party.  
"Stop it now," Blackheart muttered, "you're going to make yourself worse." And indeed, it sounded like she would stop breathing. After a few minutes (and the quick thinking of Blackheart to find a comedy film on the television) she calmed down. However, she had a coughing fit, which exhausted her. It was only nine. He had never known her to go to bed this early.

But, as selfish as it sounded, he was thankful to have a separate bed. He could handle getting Alchemy things during the day, and helping her around the house, but he could not bring himself to share a bed. It's not like she minded. She kept her box of tissues close, and a pile of extra blankets as well.

After nearly two weeks, Alchemy finally began to eat again, and not cough it back up. She had lost a lot of weight these past two weeks while her body tried to fight the infection. Now, on the day of her twentieth birthday, she had a healthy appetite and spent the entire day stuffing her face. "It's nice to have food in your belly again," She commented, slowing picking at her sandwich before taking a large mouthful. She still sounded as if she had a stuffed-up nose, but on the whole her coughing and sneezing was down. A few of her friends stopped by briefly, finally meeting the "Blackheart" she talked about, and wishing her a happy birthday. It was a Sunday, so they couldn't stay very long. Most of them had jobs, partners, and university. For dinner, Praxis cooked one of Alchemy's favorite meals: chicken tempura with sautéed mushrooms. She felt really content. It was a good birthday, she spent the day with people she cared about and had a good time. Plus, she was able to eat again.

As a present, her parents gave her a beautiful pearl necklace. She always liked her mother's pearls (a wedding present from her mother-in-law), and asked for one of her own ever since she was a little girl. She retired to bed early again, but much later than she had when she had been sick.  
"I suppose you expect a present from me?" Blackheart asked as he crawled into bed with her. Now she was relatively better, and not about to wake up in the middle of the night coughing so hard she was about to puke, he came back to bed with her.  
"No," she said, "you took care of me when I was sick…"  
"Well, I got you something," he smiled, pulling a box out from a drawer under her bed, "I think it'll help certain things."  
She eyed him curiously, an eyebrow raised, but took the box and opened it.

* * *

_Ooooh! Cliffhanger! What is in the box?!_


	9. Rough

Alchemy raised an eyebrow, examining the contents of the box. "What is this?"  
"Well," Blackheart smiled, "since you're afraid of sex, I thought I'd help prepare you for it."  
She slammed the lid of the box down, flushing bright red, "_what_?"  
"Why not?" He asked, smirked, "it could be fun. You're twenty years old, it's about time, don't you think?" His smirk turned to a soft smile.  
She breathed out a light laugh.  
"Alchemy, you can't be afraid of it your whole life. It's been four years, and it's high time I return the favour."  
"You're being selfless?"  
"Don't sound so shocked."  
"But I am shocked!"  
"Your parents are going out tomorrow night anyway."  
"And staying in Toronto overnight..." she didn't like where this was going.  
"Exactly." She stared at him. "Well?" He asked, "trust me, I have a plan."  
"Somehow I doubt that," She sighed, "alright, fine. Tomorrow. But you have to listen to me."  
"Deal."

She didn't make eye contact with Blackheart all day. Alchemy was, to say the least, scared. It was one thing to go down on him, and a completely different thing to have him actually _inside_ her. She wanted him. That was obvious. He wanted her. Again, obvious.  
Then why was she so afraid? Lots of her friends—even her super-nerdy ones—had sex already. She had to listen to the constant bombardment about it._  
Oh yes, the day he arrived we had sex. I mean, just because we had a long-distance relationship.  
It kind of happened all of the sudden. They kept calling BIRTHDAY SHOT and one thing led to another...  
It really wasn't all that great, so I dumped his ass.  
He went down on me, and I can honestly say I have never been as embarrassed.  
That's the great thing about older men; they don't care what your vag looks like, they just like 'em college-aged.  
I had my first waxing the other day. Wow, it hurt.  
I had my pubes done in the French style, you know, for our six month anniversary._  
Okay, so maybe her friends weren't the best choice for advice.

Alchemy did her mother's makeup for the opera. Praxis loved the arts, but Alexander didn't often want to go. However, he won tickets in a charity draw, and the two had a private box. Of course, they would go. Praxis looked stunning in a red gown. She had her fur coat (the coat she saved for special occasions) on. The beautiful white mink against her skin made her look like a Bond girl. Praxis was always beautiful when she wanted to be. Of course, she only tried them on for a brief second, to test the makeup. They had to get to Toronto first, and check into the hotel to change.v It was around four in the afternoon when they left.

Despite Blackheart's pleading to go to bed early, Alchemy made a full dinner—four courses—and insisted upon waiting until night. She was so nervous. At around ten o'clock, she announced she was going to take a shower. Blackheart hung out in the bedroom, fiddling with music. Alchemy, however, had a huge list of things she wanted to check before "getting out" of the shower. She just ran the water, pouring over the list. "Wash my hair," she muttered, scratching it off, "exfoliate, moisturize, clip nails..." She was lucky that being part demon meant she had almost no body hair. That was a huge worry for her at one point: shaving. The soft, flesh toned fuzz that grew on her wasn't enough to cause any worry. At least not anymore, now that hairless women are in vogue; for a while she was very self-conscious about it.

Alchemy quivered with fear when she stepped back in the bedroom. She was in a baby blue underwear set. She was clearly incredibly nervous. She shut the door, and kept her back pressed against it.  
"Don't be frightened," he said softly, "I won't hurt you." She scoffed. "I promise."  
She quickly traveled over to the bed, lay out on her back with her arms and legs spread, "well, what are you waiting for?" She grimaced, gripping as much of the sheet as she could in clenched fists. Blackheart just let out a low laugh. "What?" She opened one of her scrunched-shut eyes.  
He smirked, "nothing."  
She frowned, "you know how scared I am!"  
"It's okay," he crawled into bed with her, and pulled her close. He carefully pressed his lips against hers, in just a simple kiss. Nothing hard, nothing passionate, just a kiss: she had always liked being kissed. He lightly chewed on her lower lip, brushing it with his tongue. She shivered, opening her mouth just slightly.

A good sign. He began to kiss her harder, hands roaming across her shaking body. Nervously, she returned the stroking, rubbing his neck and shoulders. She began to stop shaking as hard, calming down as she was used to making out before bed. However, things changed. He broke away from her lips, kissing her jaw line first. His tongue followed the curve of her neck downward. He kissed across her chest, gently caressing the tops of her breasts.

She fumbled with her bra hook, taking it off herself, much to his surprise. He tossed the bra aside, and gently manoeuvred her onto her back. He ignored his own erection to focus on her. He leaned over her, and licked her nipple. She shivered, unsure of how to react. She knew what was expected of her, but she was almost paralyzed in a state of shock. He did notice she was conflicted, "don't think," he said, cool breath against her stomach. "Just relax, things will come naturally."

He sat up slightly, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties and gently dragging downward. Alchemy scrunched her arms to her chest, turning her head to stare at the wall. She heard the gentle thump of the satin hitting the floor, and began shaking again. "Calm down my love," he muttered. She scoffed, calm was _not_ on her radar.

Blackheart began by placing her feet firmly on the bed, flat, so her knees were up in the air and bent. He ran his hands across her legs, kissing her thighs. His hand trailed across her lower stomach, one resting at her hip, and the other gently massaging where her leg met her hip. It was oddly calming, and relaxing. "Alright," he said, "are you ready?" She bravely nodded, and discovered that he wasn't actually asking to penetrate her yet. His hand simply moved from her thigh. He gently began to stroke her. Her chest tightened and she felt a strange sensation go up her spine. Her arms relaxed and she wasn't sure where to put her hands. She laid one above her head, and the other hung limp at her side.

He started moving faster, pressing against her harder. She began to moan. At first, she tried to hold back the vocalizations. He noticed. "Your parent's aren't here, you don't have to censor yourself," he muttered. She made no indication she heard him, other than a slight hiss as he continued. His hand found hers, and she griped it tightly, almost sure her nailed were cutting into his flesh. Her heavy panting and heaving chest made him realise how close to the brink he was. He debated with himself for a few moments.

He was young and virile, there was no reason he couldn't finish himself off now and continue to focus on Alchemy. By the time she was ready, he would be too. He gently laid her hand back down, letting her claw away at the bedding for a time. Still rubbing her hard, he gave himself a few quick pumps. Indeed, he was closer than he assumed. He hunched over for a few seconds, shaking off the remaining shudders of an orgasm. She noticed, as he had slowed down.  
"Are you okay?" She asked breathlessly.  
He regained awareness of his surroundings, "I'm sorry," he said, continuing.

He increased his speed, but had an idea. He pushed her legs as far apart as they would go, and laid down against the bed. He slightly propped himself up on his arms and grinned. She tried to see what he was doing, even though she did have a general idea. But, before he even bothered to do anything, he pressed his nose against her and drank in her scent.

Demons are scent-driven creatures. They hunt generally by scent. Now, this may make them seem more like animals, but demons also connect scents powerfully to emotions and love. A demon that smells unpleasant to another, they will usually perceive each other as enemies. Humans also had a unique smell, but most demons said they smelt like some kind of wild poultry, like a scrawny chicken pecking across a field. Blackheart had never been with a half-demon. He had mostly entertained himself with succubae and female demons whose scents were enticing, but were not overwhelmingly beautiful or attractive. They smelt like whores and he treated them as such. Alchemy, however, had the most attractive scent he had ever come across. It was a rich, delicate smell, somewhat akin to a rich rye bread baking in a freshly cleaned kitchen with pressed linins set out. It was difficult to explain.  
Likewise, as their sexual exploration had grown, Alchemy noticed a scent from Blackheart. It was an ambery scent, almost like bergamot.

He shifted a bit, and drilled into her once more, this time with his tongue. His icy breath startled her slightly, but she was soon writhing with pleasure, screaming out whatever came into her head. Suddenly, her mind went blank, though she was still half-screaming. The sensation running up her spine spread to her entire body, and she felt her legs collapse.

For the first time in her life, Alchemy had experienced an orgasm.

When she had regained enough control of her body, she pulled Blackheart to her face, and kissed him hard. "Sex isn't so scary now, is it?" he asked when they separated.  
"No, it's still scary. Hurry up and go for it before I change my mind."  
He smiled, "see, this is why I got you all this stuff for your birthday!" he rummaged through the box, producing a small bottle. "I stole your computer and did some research into what you call 'safe sex'. Seeing as how you were so afraid of it, I took the upper hand." He said this all calmly, as if they were discussing the weather. He was unwrapping the plastic wrap on the small bottle of lube, "Usually it's the women who focus on this sort of thing. I had never really heard of it before. This present, or rather kit was your fri—"  
"Okay," she said, "stop talking."  
"What?"  
"This is not as arousing as you thought it would be."  
He rolled his eyes, "well fine." He squirted a bit of lube on his hand and massaged her. She felt an instant warming sensation.

He repositioned himself yet again, after smearing almost half a bottle of lube on both of them. He didn't want to take any chances. She had already came once, and he hoped that his sister had been right about women being much easier to slide into their first time if they had already came once that night. "Alright," he said, "if the pain is unbearable, tell me."  
She nodded, "okay."  
He started slowly, letting her set the pace. This felt different than his fingers or tongue had felt. It wasn't altogether strange. The warming lube helped. She had her arms at his shoulders, so that if he hurt her, she could easily push him away. It was going pretty well, until she began to feel very tight.  
"This is it," he said, brushing some of her hair away from her face, "do you want to me to just get it over with?" She braced herself and nodded.  
The pain wasn't too bad. It flicked through her for only a moment, and he had be gracious enough to stop when he had gotten through. Alchemy laughed, "it's done."  
"Yeah, it is," he smirked, "the real fun can begin now."

And the fun did indeed begin. Now that she wasn't afraid of the pain, they had switched into a sitting position. There was a lot of biting and scratching and they both drew blood. Not that it was unexpected. They were demons, and when engaged in something as primal and carnal and taboo as sex, they let go of their inhibitions. For the first time—in a series of firsts—Blackheart saw what Alchemy looked like in her demon form.

She was on top, with him half leaning back. She was impaling herself on him, hair streaming down her back, matted with sweat. As she approached her peak, her skin changed from a milky white to a deathly cool blue. He saw her sharp teeth through her skin, and felt her bite his shoulder with those teeth. Her spine felt thicker against his fingers, and out from her shoulders came beautiful bony wings. She was almost glowing that blue tone. After a final roar, she returned to her normal self, collapsed in his arms, with tears in her eyes.

Exhausted, the two got into bed, closely nuzzling each other.  
"It wasn't so bad, was it?" Blackheart asked.  
She shook her head.  
"See? There was no reason to be afraid." He gently rubbed her face.  
"I've never seen you be so...compassionate."  
"It's been known to happen," he smiled, "I'm not a mindless psychopath."  
"No, I know," She said, "but you were so...caring and gentle, and you never struck me as that type."  
"Well," he shrugged, "once you were alright with it all, I don't think we can use 'caring' and 'gentle'."  
She brushed a bite mark on her neck, "No, I suppose not." She scrunched her nose, "it did get rather rough, didn't it?"  
"I expect it will only get rougher once you're more comfortable with it all," he grinned, "that's why I got you all that stuff. We should go through it one day, but it's got all sorts of pleasures."  
"All I saw was lube and a pink vibrator with rhinestones."  
"Well, I got some wrist and ankle restraints, with cords, to tie you down."  
She raised an eyebrow, "bondage gear?"  
He nodded excitedly, "and I got some body paint, the kind you can lick off, and I got you about a dozen different types of lube, including flavoured."  
"Flavoured?"  
"Well, why not? To go with the flavoured condoms."  
"You did not..."  
"I did. I figured that, because you're half human, you'd be more fertile than most female demons."  
"Yeah," She said bitterly, "I am."  
"See? We'll have loads of fun. You just need some courage."  
She laughed, "Whenever I've been in relationships before, there was never any sort of... talk like this."  
"Like what?"  
"About condoms or bondage."  
"Oh."  
"Don't sound so depressed. That's probably a good thing. It means I do have courage, around you."


	10. Sorry

Chapter Ten: Sorry

Mid-morning sunlight streamed through Alchemy's window, falling across her nose. She stretched and rolled over onto her back. She rubbed her eyes.  
"Morning," Blackheart's muffled voice said.  
"Morning."  
"Sleep well?"  
"Yes," she said.  
He sat up, looking down at her. Her hair was tangled and all across her face, "what?" she asked.  
"Nothing," he said, "it's something about the morning after, it always feels sort of strange."  
She half-shrugged, "I suppose." She smiled, "it does feel a bit strange."  
He lay back down and kissed her shoulder, watching her as she stared into her curtains.  
"What's on your mind?"  
She shook out of her semi-unconscious state, still staring at her curtains, "You're not going to leave again, are you?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Are you going to leave again?"  
"Why would I leave again."  
"Because we had sex."  
"Alchemy, you're not making any sense."  
She rolled over to face him, "When I was sixteen."  
"You're still not harping on that, are you?"  
She lip quivered, "are you going to leave again?"  
"No, of course not," he tucked a knot of hair behind her ear, "Alchemy, I love you. You know I love you."  
She half-smiled, "You know there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."  
"I know," he smirked, "trust me, I know."  
She blinked serenely.

There was a sudden knock on her door, "Alchemy, we're home."  
They both jumped, Blackheart quickly got out of bed and into his own (Alchemy still hadn't told her family), "Morning Mother."  
"Morning Praxis," Blackheart called.  
"Well, it's time to get up, it's nearly noon," she opened the door, "come on, get up."  
"Yes Mother," she said. Praxis nodded slowly and went back downstairs. Alchemy laughed nervously, rubbing her face, "that was close."  
"When are you going to...?"  
"I don't know," She said, "I'm not ready." She stretched again and sat up. Her hips felt unusually heavy and _torn_.  
"Are you okay?" He noticed her look of discomfort.  
"Yeah," she said, "I think so...am I supposed to ache the morning after?"  
He shrugged, "Dunno."

Alchemy was moody and stiff the entire day. She mostly sat on her ass doing nothing which made her feel much better.  
"Sorry I made your day painful," he said, cuddling her, "I'm sure once you've, ahem, stretched out a bit, you'll be better."  
She butted her head against his shoulder, "probably."  
By the end of the month, she was fine, and had no morning after stiffness.

Christmas passed with a blur, and New Year's was happily celebrated. Alchemy began to loosen up about sex, and actually experimented. She felt wonderfully liberated and like a woman. And Blackheart wasn't leaving. That was a big thing for her. Her fear of abandonment didn't help with her first time, but after a few times, she figured out he wasn't going to find her inadequate and leave. They did love each other.

The week after New Year's, the family got a very unusual invitation. As it turned out, Alexander's nephew was getting married during the long weekend in February, and the family (Alexander, Praxis, Alchemy and Guest) were invited.  
"No," Praxis eyed the invitation, "your sister hates me. She called me Rosemary when I was pregnant."  
"Yes, but Nigel is my nephew, and Natalie isn't that terrible."  
Alchemy snorted in disbelief.  
"Okay," Alexander said, sighing, "Mimi, yes or no?"  
"Yes," she said instantly, "I want to go."  
Praxis sighed, "Okay, we'll go." She turned to her husband, "but I am going to get drunk, and you can't stop me."  
"Deal," he turned to Blackheart, "You don't have to come."  
"No," Blackheart shrugged, "I'll go. With these two, it might be fun."  
Alexander nodded, and called his nephew.

On a Saturday in the middle of the month, Alexander and Blackheart went to Mike Delany for new suits, and the girls went to the mall for dresses.  
"Alex!" Mike smiled, greeting him and Blackheart. Mike was a small man, flamboyant, with thinning hair.  
"Hi," Alexander smiled, "I need suits."  
"We can do that," he turned to Blackheart, "new friend?"  
"You could say that."  
Mike extended his hand, "Mike Delany."  
"Blackheart," he gingerly accepted the hand. Mike shuddered from the cold.  
"Interesting name."  
"It's a stage name," Alexander whispered, "He's one of those Goth musicians..."  
"Ah," Mike nodded, "he needs a suit as well?"  
Alexander nodded, "We have a wedding to go to."  
"Who's getting married?"  
"My nephew."  
"I have just the thing for you," Mike smiled, "but...Blackheart...might take some more work."

Alexander ended up with a smoky grey suit, with a blue and white striped shirt, and blue tie.  
"Now," Mike said, putting Blackheart on a small platform, "what would you like in a suit."  
Blackheart shrugged, "I don't often wear suits."  
"That is a lovely waistcoat though."  
Blackheart looked down. He had worn his leather pants and waistcoat today, "thank you."  
"How do you feel about pinstripe?"  
"Um...I don't really know anything about fabric." Mike left and returned with a fabric swatch with jet black fabric, and a thin, blood red pinstripe. "We pair it with a black shirt and a red tie."  
Blackheart nodded, "okay."  
Mike got the items, and Blackheart tried them on. He looked different in a full suit. "Well?"  
"It's very modern," Mike said, "the young men all love it."  
Alexander nodded, "Yeah, it's nice. I'm sure Praxis would approve."  
"How is Praxis?" Mike asked fondly, "and little Alchemy...my, she's twenty now isn't she? I remember when she was two." The suits would be ready in a week.

Praxis and Alchemy had a different time. Praxis found a dress first. It was a brown, mid-calf length gown, with a small, gold geometric print. Praxis looked so beautiful. She always looked beautiful in formal wear. Some women look best in jeans and a nice sweater, some look best in uniform; Praxis was one of the women who looked best if she was in formal dresses, be they cocktail dresses, wedding dresses, or big poofy princess gowns.  
They stopped at the food court in the mall for a quick bite before going to look for a dress for Alchemy.  
"So, do you still hate having Blackheart in your room?"  
"No," Alchemy said, "it took some time to get used to."  
"You're close with him, aren't you?"  
"We're good friends."  
Praxis snorted, "don't lie Alchemy."  
"I'm not."  
"I found the used condoms; I know you two have a relationship."  
Alchemy blushed slightly, "how long have you known?"  
"A few days. Why didn't you tell us you were together, we could have taken that bed out of your room."  
Alchemy shrugged, "I don't know."  
"How long have you been together?"  
"Early October..."  
"You could have told me."  
"Don't be mad."  
"I'm not," Praxis actually smiled at her daughter, "he's a wonderful man, and I think you are really suited well for each other."  
Alchemy smiled, "thanks, Mom."  
"What do you say we move that old bed out of your room? I doubt Blackheart actually sleeps in it."  
"Okay."

Alchemy had no idea what she wanted in a dress, but when she found it, she was in love. It was a black dress with thin straps. Around the legs, it became two-tiered, with lace detail. It was simple, elegant, and beautiful. It suited Alchemy perfectly.

The women returned home much earlier than the men, because they had left earlier, and Praxis had a feeling they stopped off to get food. So, the girls rolled up their sleeves and dismantled the second bed. Praxis moved the mattress and bedding while Alchemy emptied the drawers and moved all of Blackheart's clothes into her closet and dresser. "Look," Praxis said as she and Alchemy began to carry the components of the bed to the basement, "I don't really care if you and Blackheart are together. And I don't care if you're having sex." Alchemy looked down. "Mimi," She stopped halfway down the stairs and awkwardly reached over to her daughter, making Alchemy look her in the eye, "I'm proud of you."  
"Proud?"  
"I was worried Catholic school was going to ruin you," Praxis continued taking the bed down, "You're being safe about it. I know you're twenty, but I'm too young to be a grandmother."  
Alchemy laughed.

"Why'd you get rid of the other bed?" Blackheart asked. Alchemy was laying on his chest, running her fingers across his stomach.  
"My mom did," she said, "she knows."  
"So, is that what women talk about when they go dress shopping?"  
She laughed, "no, she brought it up when we had lunch."  
"How'd she find out?"  
"She was emptying out my garbage can I guess."  
"Oooh, awkward."  
"It wasn't too bad," she said, "I mean, yeah, it was embarrassing, but she was proud of me."  
"Why?"  
"She was worried that Catholic middle school wouldn't teach me anything about safe sex."  
"And did it?"  
"Not really, but I'm not stupid, and neither are you." Alchemy laughed, "She said she's too young to be a grandmother."  
"I'm really glad we didn't talk about this earlier."  
"Why?" She asked.  
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep with you for a few days without thinking of your mother now..."  
She nudged him, "I somehow doubt that."  
He half-grinned, "Does your father know?"  
"Probably," she replied, "maybe we should move out...or ask if we can take the attic suite..."  
"I think you need to relax. Your mother is proud of you for using condoms, and now we don't have to act like kids sneaking around. If you were still sixteen, then I'd say you had a point, but you're twenty."  
She sighed, "probably..."  
"Look, you had it easy. Your mother just said she knew and said she was proud of us. Diya want to know what happened to me?"  
"Okay."  
"My sister, Luxuria..." He grinned, "I had been seeing this succubus for about six months when I was seventeen...and we did eventually have sex. And Luxuria—she's almost ten years older than me, so having my twenty-seven year old sister lecture me about sex—she launches into this explanation about, first the mechanics of it all. I could handle that, because I had already done it, but then she goes totally opposite and starts telling me about how to take a girls' virginity, and the best positions to give a woman multiple orgasms, and how to prolong an erection. I mean, I learned a lot, but it was the most awkward twenty minutes of my life. So, your mother is proud of you...that isn't all that awkward."  
Alchemy laughed, "Okay, you're right, it isn't that bad."

January and early February were bitterly cold, and made Alchemy, Praxis and Blackheart very irritable. They weren't good with the cold, the snow and the ice. Alchemy probably felt the worst, getting sick again. But, in an attempt to make her feel better, Blackheart (with help from Praxis) planned a beautiful, five-day vacation to Toronto. They left on February 10th, and checked into the Four Seasons in Toronto. It was an upscale hotel in the heart of the city, and Alchemy was positively thrilled to go there.  
"How are you affording this?" She asked on the drive down.  
He laughed throatily, "Ah, well...that's none of your business." In actuality, Blackheart had contacted his brother-in-law, Caritas, who managed to not only get the room for them, but also tickets to the opera _Carmen_ for the eleventh. Of course, his sister, Avaritia, was beyond upset with her husband and brother ("You just cost us $3000 Blackheart! What the fuck!").

The drive home was relaxing and calming. Alchemy had loved the Toronto trip: they had stayed up late, gone shopping downtown, and both of them felt closer as a couple. It had been their first real vacation. Blackheart had his feet on the dashboard, kind of dancing to the music Alchemy had turned the radio to. "I've been meaning to ask you," he said as they pulled into a Tim Hortins for something eat, "why do you want to go to your cousin's wedding so much?"  
She shrugged as she turned into the drive-thru, ordered, and got the food. She thirstily drank most of her hot chocolate and devoured a doughnut (cherry blossom).  
"Alchemy..." Blackheart pressed, picking at his own doughnut (Boston cream), "are you going to answer me?"  
She sighed, "I didn't want to talk about it."  
"Too bad," he sipped at a coffee, "spill."  
She smirked, getting back on the highway, "At my sweet sixteen, when I took all my friends out to a really fancy dinner, and back to my house for cake and movies, my dad's sisters and their husbands came along. We didn't invite them, but they asked to help ferry kids back and forth from the restaurant to my house."  
"So?"  
"It was okay, until we were back at my house. We didn't know that their kids were in town. My older cousins came to the house, and came downstairs with my friends, and embarrassed me by being completely hammered. I didn't care if they told stories about when I was little: it was that they were drunk, didn't listen when I asked them nicely to leave, the younger one—Nigel—hit on one of my best friends, and ended up passed out in my basement. My friends said it was no big deal, but it was too late."  
Blackheart smiled, "You're sexy when you want revenge."  
"I have to do it. They need to know how I felt. I don't care how petty it is."  
"Well, you have my support. And your mother's I think."

The remaining drive was much more exciting. Plotting was always fun.


End file.
